The Land's Cry

The Land's Cry ​As a lad, "Oh rivers of my country," I sang... Now, "Oh people of society," sings the land... ​Faraway on the school compound, little kids sang as into class they marched... Drought, the once-moist Volta's bank clearly parched... A land once full of milk and honey— For greed’s sake, now from the land bleeds money. Once full of milk and honey, now with a tint of mud and mercury, folks get your cups for some tea! How long is it going to take for they who ought to wear the crown to see this sea of tea they’re leaving for us as they flee? ​The Pra, once full of life, now irritates the nose with its stink... Weighs heavy on my thoughts when I try to rethink ​Men, so greedy, searching for a dime... Blind to the land's cry for life on time... ​Who ought to wear the crown for the land's cry...? Is it me, the young lad whom society taught never to try...? ​Is it a futile battle for the land's moaning...? Or a fruitful venture for the land's groaning...? ​Politrikcians—every quadrennium, livelihoods they pledge... But I guess that's just an iota of their many tricks that keep us on edge... ​Leaving me, the young lad, handicapped; to the land definitely I'll turn... Deafened to its cry, the trees I'd burn... ​Because, looking around, all I see are gluttons Looting to fill themselves, leaving in our rivers silt that settles to the bottom. ​The soil I'd wash with amalgams, hoping to find gold... Just so mama back home can grow old... ​Forgotten is the song of old I was taught; maybe that song was just one of life's fallacies... When reality hits, forgotten are the childhood fantasies... ​"From the land, man shall live," God said—so with misinterpretations, I cloud my mind with that... The police themselves join me in criminality, so why worry about the aftermath? ​A new song to the kids I'd compose... "The Land's Cry," kids, you shall sing along the coasts... ​The Land's cry gives a sad tune... With lyrics: "Oh! people of modern society, When shall you gain your sobriety? And hear me out as I shout. Oh! diverse folk of mother Ghana, When, in unity, shall you fight... To avert your blurry plight? Oh! people of my land! People of North, South, East, and West, When shall my state be at its best!" ​Faraway, I hear the land's cry... ​— @Wisdomwrites.